I Pray My Soul To Keep
by WhatAboutBrennenburg
Summary: It is rumored that soldiers that left their posts and escaped into the forests would be dragged away, never to be seen again. Monsters lurk in imagination of those who spread these tales, but maybe they aren't so imaginary after all. The kidnapped know this better than anybody could ever dream to, and better than anybody would want to.
1. Chapter 1

_Now you sleep._

But you hadn't slept. You hadn't slept since those words, murmured soft, a whisper of ill omens and malicious wishes swept past your ears, a dull hum that echoed inside your head, for eternity...

 _Now you sleep._

Not that they mattered much, not in that moment. No. Nothing mattered. Nothing, except for the throbs of pulsating pain that shot through your entirety, again, and again – your mind gasping for air above the swirl of hurt... That merciless statement had only entered through the cracks and crevices, through the breaths of moments, lodged behind everything else. In that moment, it couldn't matter.

 _Hush, hush-_

You lumbered along the hallways, balance fleeting as you followed the rows of crawling bricks, rushing into the darkness that stained the stale air. Like that, you wandered for what felt like centuries, and centuries upon that. Days turn into endless forevers when nights are spent awake. The world was shrouded behind hazy film, a fog that hovered before your face. Only torches made the ancient labyrinth visible beneath a sheen of orange that faltered and flickered in the shadows – but torches were scarcely lit, and you were left to stumble in the numbness that crept along your flesh. Metal can't feel and decay is nothing more, and clinking claws of dagger blades or the fear enduing reaction you compel could never make up for it.

 _Now you sleep._

But you couldn't sleep! You couldn't sleep, and only the shadows would ever know. Only the darkness that filed behind that man's crimes could ever know. But he couldn't hide behind the blanket of night forever. Light would shine on his sins soon enough - soon enough – and when it did, he'd have to remember, and you, you would be standing right there to remind him. Remind him of everything.


	2. Chapter 2

Old men speak as old men will. They told stories of times long past. The Thirty-Years War seemed to be of topic, although you knew that they could not have been alive during the time when it happened.  
The sun fell behind the tree tops, silhouetted, as black claws of gnarly branches pressed against the deep, vibrant blue color the sky had taken. Silence hovered throughout the heavy air as you walked, your soles digging deep into the thin layer of mud that topped the path. On either side, shabby buildings stood, weathered brick walls held up by wooden planks with designs and ridges etched into their sides by time's hands and nature's imagination. Empty windows with peeling panes lined the inn's stories, the shops wares sat silent in the shadows behind locked doors, and the only place where life was still visible was the tavern, where shapeless, nameless figures scurried about, like vermin from human footsteps. On the porch, underneath the lamp, dim light flickering through a rusting frame, two men stood, long white beards of unkept hair only barely visible in the flickering flame behind the cloudy glass. Only the thick weaving of trees and empty rows of fields and crops surrounded the cluster of shacks, this poor excuse for a town. This was all radically different from the bustling brick streets and interlocked, intricate structures of your home.  
Your jacket rode up along your elbows, and the thick stitches of wirey string jabbed at the back of your neck as you walked with heavy steps along the area. You were on patrol – a pointless duty, in your opinion – especially in a location so painfully rural as this one. But it was an order, and needed to be carried out, regardless of your personal opinions on the matter, or how uncomfortable the uniform might be.  
"I'd watch out if I were you, solider."  
A rasp, wavering, floated in your direction. A glint of orange seared across two, open eyes, that stared unblinking, unmoving, into yours. Folds of leathery skin circled the glare, and drew across the edges of the man's mouth, covered only by a snow-white stubble that trickled across his face and underneath his hooked nose.  
"Oh there you go again." Another man, this one with an accumulation of fat on his abdomen and a fluffy white beard that fell like light, mud stained clouds across his chest, slapped the other man on the back with his meaty hand, a skeleton in comparison. His cheeks flushed pink as he grinned, and horizontal wrinkles formed on either side of his squinted eyes. "Talking about your father and the war and all that rot." A low, rumbling chuckle arose from his smiling mouth and he took another sip of the drink, whatever it might have been, in the bottle that he wrapped his giant fingers around. "Don't scare the young man!"  
"I am speaking with all seriousness!" The first speaker hissed, as he brushed his bony fingers across his shoulders as if flicking a bug off of his shirt, and turned back to you. "You know the story of soldiers who left their posts, don't you? Monsters took them. Monsters took them and did who knows what with them and-"  
"The war was centuries ago, I doubt your father was even alive during that time, now leave this poor man alone." The other interrupted with a tone that ran rich, but grew tense.  
Who hadn't heard of the rumors, after all? Legends drifted down from generation to the next, told to every newcomer, as they had been told to you. And you especially, being an underling of the military. This man was drunk, and alcohol allows fairytales to get to our minds. You stopped, and nodded as he spoke, but said nothing, as there was nothing, really, to be said.  
"Be careful, soldier! Be careful. Who's to know if these tales still rein true? Who's to know if the monster's aren't still out there, searching, starving-"  
"Alright, that's enough." A mammoth palm gripped the thin man's shoulder, and began pulling him back. "Let's get you home."  
You nodded in gratitude to the larger villager, and forced a smile through the irritation you felt dwelling just underneath your skin, then went once again on your way. None of what either of them had said, you took to heart. I didn't matter. Not in that moment, at least.


End file.
